


brave new world

by MedusaOfTheSpecies



Series: Sapphic September 2019 [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Reunion Post-Legends, Sapphic September, SapphicSeptember2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 07:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20485319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedusaOfTheSpecies/pseuds/MedusaOfTheSpecies
Summary: Sara wakes up coughing, lungs burning, every inch of her throat sore to what feels like the point of bleeding. It's because of this that at first, she doesn't even notice the warrior in front of her.





	brave new world

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of Sapphic September on Tumblr, "Just get it over with."  
The prompts can be found @wordsbymedusa.

**brave new world**

_i. 2008 _

Sara wakes up coughing, lungs burning, every inch of her throat sore to what feels like the point of bleeding. It’s painful and awful and scary but she’s alive. After Oliver’s suicidal, last-minute, and awfully planned schemes (she misses him like air, like half her soul ripped out), combined with Slate’s thirst for vengeance and all the challenges a place like Lian Yu brings, it’s a surprise, almost a happy one.

She’s breathing shallowly when she finally notices the shadow falling on her, the outline of the warrior in front of her. Keeping as still and quiet as she can, Sara grasps around the floor in front of her for anything: a weapon to defend herself, or perhaps something sharp to untie her hands with. She hadn’t even noticed her surroundings (her first mistake), but she’s in what appears to be a castle—ancient, ugly, and seemingly fortress-like.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the warrior says suddenly, and oh, she’s a girl with a strange accent. She even seems to be around Sara’s own age, though clearly more accomplished if her armour means anything. “Your attempts to escape are futile and will only further harm you if you continue them.”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have been surprised that her attempts had been noticed, but she left surprise behind with the kind of girl she was before she was shipwrecked. Instead, Sara tries to smile.

Her lungs hurt when she speaks, it feels like a knife running through then. “Yeah well,” she manages to rasp out, “I tend to hear that a lot. I’m sort of familiar with death threats by now.”

The warrior-girl turns around then to face her and she almost looks surprised for a short moment, her dark hair falling around her cheekbones as her lips pull into a scowl. “I am Nyssa Al-Ghul, heir to the demon. You are my father’s prisoner.”

Sara tries to shrug, to appear nonchalant even as she fears the worst. It hurts like hell, but that’s almost a tradition by now. “I‘ve heard that before too. But if you were going to kill me, you could have already done it. Hell, you can just get it over with now, but you haven’t. Why?”

Nyssa Al-Ghul turns around again, but Sara swears she almost seems incredulous. Whether it’s by Sara’s bravery or her foolishness is debatable; Sara’s own father used to say she was foolhardy.

“You are not mine to kill,” Nyssa says finally, her voice softer then Sara would expect. The tone almost sounds merciful, but Sara doesn’t trust her anymore then she can throw her. “Not yet, at least.”

* * *

_ ii. 2015 _

Nyssa knows her father better than anyone in the world could ever imagine.

He betrays her easily, puts the wishes of men like Oliver Queen and Malcolm Merlyn above her own; he fails the league and its core values.

Sara, despite her father’s ill-thoughts, does not.

“Nyssa,” Sara says and the teasing quality in her voice makes Nyssa believe she is repeating herself. It is an odd feeling, there are few people in the world that Nyssa trusts enough to not be on edge around. Even since the disbandment of the league, she lives like her biggest threat is just around the corner.

“My thoughts drifted,” Nyssa admits uncomfortably. “My apologies, beloved.”

Sara’s eyes bore into her own scrutinizingly. By now, Sara’s training may well rival her own, she knows there is no point in a lie, nor would she lie to Sara regardless.

“I was telling you about Rip Hunter,” Sara says and an achingly familiar smile plays across her lips. If Nyssa could, she would capture this moment and keep it on repeat forever. “I don’t know if I’m going to take up his offer, Nyssa. I just got my life back—I don’t know if I could leave Laurel and my dad and you so quickly.”

Sara means it, Nyssa finds. She truly doesn’t know whether she will change the world, whether she’ll travel through time and correct its errors. Sara’s doubt is almost as lovable as her certainty, like the way she would follow Nyssa into war.

Ra's Al-Ghul was right about few things, but he was right that Sara leaves. Her home is not the same as Nyssa’s, but that means little. The thing about Sara Lance is she will always, without a doubt, come back.

“Go,” Nyssa says, and kisses Sara. Sara’s lips as chapped, but she smells like the sea and while her smile is exhausted, it has always had the power to rival even the sun. “Go save the world, Ta-er al-Usfar, get this mission of yours over with. And then, when you are done, come back to me. I will wait for you.”

* * *

_ iii. 2017_

Sara leaves. She comes back with new scars and new stories, talks through the night about old friends and old missions. Nyssa studies her, watches the way she holds the weight of newfound responsibilities on her shoulders, the way she fits differently into the space she left behind. It is not the same, but Nyssa never expected it to be; asking Sara not to change would be too big a favour to ask.

This is key: Sara returns, walks through the door and smiles the same way she always does.


End file.
